


The Carnival

by ambrosie



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Love Never Dies - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, also my love for blond christine knows no bounds so thats that, alw with a lot of leroux and some headcanons here and there, but it isnt even about that its about gustave so, from the bottom of my heart lnd was written poorly and it couldve been better, gustave has a spiritual awakening, id say this is like r/c with past e/c, lnd made a BIG MESS of a lot of characters so im fixing that too, so i said pans labyrinth style lnd now im going to do it, there are some more tags im sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambrosie/pseuds/ambrosie
Summary: Ten year old Gustave de Chagny devotes himself to music, but closes off to the rest of the world. His parents seek to change that. Alternatively, in which Gustave de Chagny finds himself as he explores the greatest carnival in America.
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera, Raoul de Chagny/Christine Daaé
Comments: 19
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave de Chagny spends hours a day at the piano, insisting on teaching himself since he's met no tutors who understand him. His parents reveal that they will be traveling to meet an old friend in America, which might just lead to the break that their son needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we go, I mentioned LND but if it was like ... Gustave's spiritual awakening in a Pan's Labyrinth way, which is exactly what this is.

The manor was once again filled with music. In fact, it had been filled with music for a good three hours. A gentle music coaxed from the keys of a piano by a child's hands. Gentle, until an odd tritone was hit, followed by a groan. Gustave de Chagny dragged his hands over his face, staring forlornly at the sheet music in front of him. His mother told him that he had talent, and surely he had shown it. His father encouraged him to work hard for the things he loved, although perhaps they both should've told him to find more than one hobby. As it seemed, music was the entirety of the young Vicomte's life. His friends were the maids who sometimes came to listen, or the characters in the books he read, or perhaps the spirits of composers now long since dead. Bach was his friend, right? They went to Sunday Mass together. There was Vivaldi, who he talked to as the seasons changed. Beethoven was there when no one else listened to his frustrations, and at odd hours, he laughed with Mozart. Every so often, he'd run into another man, Paganini, who his father told him to avoid.

Not that Gustave _ever_ listened, Paganini was enchanting in his own way.

"You were playing for three hours," came the warm voice of Raoul de Chagny, with the slightest bit of concern, "Practicing is good, but not when you burn out." He knew his son would never admit it, but he was most certainly burnt out. Gustave was talented, at the age of ten, he had already composed three original pieces. He'd begun to play piano at the age of four, and he had gone through seven tutors already. "I'm not burned out," as expected. "I just ..." He was burnt out. Where on earth had he inherited that level of persistence? This boy with his mother's blond hair and his father's grey eyes, and talents that resembled someone else entirely. It was a subject that Raoul had never brought up with Christine — not because he didn't want to, but because he had no idea how to. Each time he thought he had a way to address that part of their past, it still came out wrong. Bless her for being so patient.

"You're burnt out." 

Christine de Chagny had spent the past ten years of her life wanting for nothing. Married to her childhood sweetheart, blessed with a beautiful little boy, and still in touch with her friends from her days at the Opera Populaire. La Sorelli had finally settled down with a soft-spoken banker, Jammes had found her calling taking care of the sickly, and Meg... Oh, Meg Giry had become the Baroness de Barbazac! Her mother, God bless her soul, had been so delighted! It was the only time that anyone spoke of the Opera Ghost around Christine, when Mme Giry had smiled so brightly, "Perhaps not an Empress, but to think that my Meg has still found such a grand love— just as he wrote!" That was the end of that, and it had been the end until now. Until she'd walked in to find her son and her husband discussing the piano and the amount of practice Gustave did. "I'm not burnt out!" The boy was at his mother's side before she knew what was happening, his arms thrown around her waist — "Mother, you practiced every day, too, right? I have to practice because I don't have a tutor! I'm teaching myself, like you did!" A pause. "Did you? Teach yourself?"

This was, perhaps, the thing Christine dreaded most. The day that her curious son asked about her singing. She hadn't been on the stage since her marriage to Raoul, an agreement she made with his family. It was so very improper for a Vicomtess to sing, and so she did not. Instead, she sang in the manor, sang to her son, and while she was so very out of practice, there was still something so very angelic about her voice.

"Mother?" 

Yes, it had only been a matter of time. "I had a tutor, once. He was a brilliant man, a composer and an inventor, very well traveled... He would've been very cross with me if I didn't rest my voice. I'm certain he would tell you to take breaks as well." Silence fell, for which she was momentarily grateful for, a nervous glance cast to her husband, his, apologetic, in return. "If he was such a great tutor to you, why hasn't he tutored me?" This silence, she was not grateful for. How could she tell her son about her tutor, the Opera Ghost — no, Erik. He had a name and he was not a ghost and he was not an angel, even if looking upon him made her feel as if she was burning. Gustave was only ten, and this tale was not for a boy of ten. Perhaps she would tell him all of it when he was twenty. She took a breath — She had to say something, or his questions would simply continue and she knew that if he continued to ask, she'd crumble under the weight of the memories of a man who had committed so many sins for her. Because of her.

"Gustave," Another glance at Raoul, sweet and forgiving Raoul who had waited three months after the ordeal for them to be wed, who had been there when she woke from nightmares. Raoul, who had given her the summertime that he had promised her all those years ago. True to form, he gave a supportive smile, despite the horridly awkward situation. "I parted ways with my tutor before you were born. We didn't keep in touch. I think he thought that there was nothing more that he could teach me." There was disappointment on her son's face. Of course, for he had been seeking someone who even remotely understood him and the music he had in his head that he so very much wished to put on paper. He managed three times, which clearly was not enough. Another pause — "My tutor may not be here to advise you, but I am. You trust your mother's advice, right?" At that, Gustave smiled, burying his face against his mother's stomach. "Well then, you will need to take a break, only a week. Baroness de Barbazac has invited us to join her at a carnival in America."

America! That was so far away, across the ocean! "A week!" Once again, Gustave was no longer smiling, pulling away from his mother and crossing his arms over his chest — "I can't be away for a week! What if I come back and I've forgotten how to play?" At this, Raoul let out a soft sigh, going over to pick up his incredibly disgruntled son. "That's not how things work, Gustave. You won't forget how to play if you take a week to just enjoy something else. I promise." Maybe that was all the boy needed, the encouragement of both his parents. After all, they always had the best advice, even better than Mozart! "Go upstairs and pack a bag, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

America! A carnival! It did sound thrilling, and Gustave's imagination whirled as he tossed far more than a weeks worth of clothes in his little suitcase.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave realizes that he's going to be away from home for more than a week, much to his dismay, and discovers a newfound loathing of traveling by boat. Christine is reunited with Meg.

Gustave's excitement for the journey to America had ended as soon as he set foot on the ship that would take them there. For a boy with his head in the clouds, he certainly learned that he quite enjoyed having his feet on the ground. For the third time in the hour, Gustave found himself retching in the washroom of the luxurious cabin. He was absolutely certain that he would be forced to spend the entire journey like that — that being absolutely miserable and regretting ever agreeing to come with his parents. He could've stayed home with the maids, with Bach and Vivaldi and Beethoven and Mozart. And Paganini, who he could've talked to without worrying about his father scolding him.

Why was it only Paganini? His father never said anything about the others, just the eccentric violinist.Maybe his father just didn't like violins. Or maybe he was thrown off by his son playing violin pieces on a piano. Gustave made a mental note to ask, but only when he felt like he could actually hold any form of conversation with his father that wasn't incoherent groaning and complaining about how he never wanted to be on a boat ever again. As soon as that thought came, it dawned on him that he would, in fact, have to be on a boat to go back home. Why wasn't there some other manner of transportation? Something that didn't involve the feeling of the ground swaying beneath him. Maybe it would be better if people could travel by the air. He wasn't the only person on the ship who was seasick, so why hadn't anyone figured out a different way to travel over oceans?

If no one else was going to find a manner of travel that wasn't absolutely miserable, then he would. Another thing on his mental checklist, as if he didn't have at least twenty other unrelated problems that plagued people that he wanted to solve. Most of them had at least some plan, but he quickly lost focus. Maybe he lost focus because he wasn't subjected to the misery in question for as long as it felt now. How long had it been, anyway? A day? A week? No, they were only going to be in America for a week. His father promised him that he would be back home in a week and that he wouldn't forget how to play the piano in his time away!

His father had conveniently omitted the fact that the entire trip to America in itself would take a week by ship. A transgression that he surely would never forget! Betrayed by his own father! He'd realized that on the fourth day of travel when he finally asked another passenger why he couldn't see the shore. The following tantrum earned him quite the lecture from his mother and his father, of how that was no way for a vicomte to act! But, for the remaining three days, Gustave said nothing to his father. A proper consequence for lying like that, the boy had decided! Raoul quietly accepted this, as he and Christine were both well aware that Gustave very well could've come up with something much more drastic.

Where on earth had he inherited that sort of theatrics from? Christine was never so dramatic, even when she played her roles on stage. Perhaps he had heard some story about La Carlotta from one of the maids — God only knew the boy's imagination led him to some incredibly strange behaviors, behaviors that his parents couldn't quite understand. Christine insisted that Gustave would eventually settle down. Raoul couldn't help a sinking feeling that he wouldn't. Not in the ways high society would want from him.

* * *

Finally, the ship reached American shores, docking at a place called Coney Island, a part of New York. Gustave opened his mouth to ask why it was New York and where Old York was, and if there wasn't one, what was the point of a New York? Why not name it York? But he didn't ask. Not because he didn't want to, but because the Baroness de Barbazac was running toward them, a bright smile upon her face.

"Christine!" The Baroness' voice was airy, but not without a great deal of emotion. From what Gustave understood, Baroness de Barbazac was once a dancer at the Opera Populaire, and she was his mother's best friend. He stood with his father as his mother hugged the Baroness, and tried to make out what was being said, other than his mother's name and the Baroness'. Meg, short and sweet, although it was probably short for Marguerite, which was much less short and far too formal. _Presenting Baroness Marguerite de Barbazac_ , Gustave imagined in the most pompous voice possible, attempting to stifle a laugh afterward.This drew the attention of both women. The Baroness, Meg, he reminded himself, came over to give him a hug as well, and a kiss on each cheek. "Look how much you've grown! Your mother writes so much about you, but you're even more handsome in person, a perfect blend of your parents!" At this, Gustave felt his face heat up and he went to glue himself to his father's side.

Raoul, immensely relieved to be 'forgiven' for omitting the length of travel to Gustave, ruffled the boy's hair and greeted Meg with a smile.

"Oh, you must be exhausted from the journey, I'll show you where you'll be staying! The rooms are so nice and you can see the lights of the carnival at night! It really is gorgeous..." The rest of the conversation was muddled, or at the very least Gustave processed little of it, other than something about Meg's husband being back at the hotel and something about heading to the carnival after they met for breakfast in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up how long it took to get from france to america and realized I had to just ... do this because it took like a week or so by a fancy steam boat in the late 1800s (like 7ish days by 1890)... Good thing Gustave packed more than a week's worth of clothes...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave learns that he may be the only person in the dark about the events in his mother's past. A late night visitor piques his interest.

The next morning was awkward at best and downright unnerving at worst. While Gustave had been grateful to sleep in a bed that wasn't on a boat, he hadn't woken up in his own bedroom, a place of comfort filled with trinkets and things that he refused to throw away even when his parents insisted. He hadn't even woken up in France! Not that America was awful, but it was new. That's why they called it Newfoundland, or something like that. Because it was a newly found land. Just like New York was named New York due to the very fact that the colonizers from England had named it after the Duke of York, who lived in Old York. Or, he lived in just York. Gustave had asked his father about the topic as soon as they were both awake, much to Raoul's groggy dismay.

At least his father had given him an answer. Whether or not he was pleased with it was yet to be seen. New York was named for York, but before that it had been New Amsterdam, named for old Amsterdam, which was also just Amsterdam. The boy was convinced that his father had droned on about the history of the place just to make him lose interest. As if Gustave was capable of losing interest in anything. All he knew how to do was to become overwhelmed, and even then, it wasn't like he was doing that on purpose. Just like how he didn't zone out at breakfast tables on purpose, although that was exactly what he'd been doing. Maybe socializing wasn't his thing, although it wasn't like he had any real experience talking to anyone but the maids or his parents.

"Gustave has become very invested in playing the piano," Christine's voice brought her son back to reality, a kiss placed upon his forehead. "Why don't you tell Meg about your music? Sometimes, you just need to talk about something you like to break the ice." As always, great advice from his great mother, who he had decided would also be his tutor in the absence of her tutor in the past. With a bright smile, Gustave told Baroness Meg about how he loved playing piano and how he made friends with musicians and how he went through seven tutors who didn't get him. "Mother told me about her tutor, but they parted ways. Since I can't study under her great tutor, she has to teach me herself!" Meg stared. Her husband, Baron Edmond de Barbazac, cleared his throat.

Gustave couldn't help the feeling that _everyone_ knew something about his mother's tutor that he didn't. Not that it would be surprising for Baroness Meg to know, and maybe she told her husband, and his mother would've told his father... and no one told him. Judging by the pregnant pause between his statement and Baroness Meg's soft laugh, he could only assume that whatever happened with his mother's tutor had involved a lot of people.

"Gustave, are you sure you want your mother to tutor you? She's a wonderful singer, but I don't think she knows how to play piano at all. Do you, Christine?" the Baroness had one of those looks on her face, the one that his mother and father would give him when they were trying to hide disbelief or doubt — "Mother said her tutor was a composer, so maybe he taught her more than singing! If I was a composer who was teaching someone, I'd want to show them how to play something so if I wasn't there, they'd still be able to have accompaniment. Mother, if your tutor didn't do that for you, he might not be as brilliant as you say." To this, everyone laughed, and the rest of the meal was much less tense, but still ... Maybe it was only awkward and unsettling for Gustave, being the only person who didn't know what the whole deal with this tutor was. How he hated secrets! 

* * *

Baron Edmond paid for their breakfast, despite Raoul's protests. Gustave caught something about how there was no need to pay when he had plenty of money of his own, and mention of paying for the next meal, be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. His father was going to regret that, surely, especially if everyone worked up an appetite after running around the carnival. "Mother, what's even at the carnival? Animals? Rides? Games? People who perform? Does it run all day and night? Do the people ever get breaks?" Christine had to admit to her son that she wasn't exactly sure what was at the carnival, although Meg was happy to chime in that there were in fact animals and games and performers. For rides, she mentioned an aerial racing slide, and something that resembled Venetian gondolas. It certainly sounded exciting.

It turned out to be far more overwhelming than Gustave had anticipated. He'd counted thirty attractions already, and Baron Edmond said that there were fifty attractions on the midway alone. He followed that statement with something about the carnival being fifteen American acres in size, to which the boy nearly fainted. How could they possibly see everything in a place that large? They hadn't even reached the center of the park, where the best attraction was said to be. With the way things seemed to be closing in around him, Gustave was certain they would never reach the main attraction. Not when he felt like he couldn't breathe or hear his own thoughts, or figure out which way would lead to an exit and which way would take him deeper into the bustling place! Christine, sensing her son's strife offered to take him back to the hotel. They had an entire week to explore, so they didn't have to see everything in the carnival in a single day. Gustave was incredibly relieved to know this.

In fact, the plan seemed to sit well with his father and the Baron and Baroness. Adults had a way of hiding when they felt overwhelmed, but there was something about a child's intuition that let him see that they felt just as nervous. Or maybe he was jut projecting his feelings on them and they were being nice. So they went for lunch and explored some more quiet places, before finding somewhere far too fancy for Gustave's tastes to have dinner. Dinner, which his father paid for and as predicted, regretted as soon as he looked at the bill. Not that he showed it in any way other than a slight wrinkling of his nose. 

* * *

Gustave fell asleep as soon as he put his head on the pillow of the hotel bed, one not nearly as comfortable as his own at home, but he sank into it with a soft sigh. He was vaguely aware of his mother, perhaps his father, opening a door to let in fresh air, or maybe to sit on the balcony and chat like adults always did. He'd come to this conclusion when he woke up in the middle of the night to find the balcony door still open. His parents were most certainly asleep in the second room of the suite, but it would be helpful to close the door so they wouldn't panic in the morning. Closing the door to the balcony was an excellent plan until something caught Gustave's eye. Something white? The white flash moved, proving to be a human being in a mask, who had landed silently on the ground after jumping from the balcony. Like a cat, but a person, and one who Gustave desperately wanted to follow.

Christine and Raoul slept peacefully unaware of their son climbing down from the balcony, landing safely but not without a small _oof_ escaping him, thoughts of closing the balcony door completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically i guess family friendly amusement parks on Coney Island weren't a thing until 1897 with Steeplechase Park, which is definitely what I'm basing this off of, but I guess it's fiction, it isn't that another park couldn't have been there for a brief time before, considering Coney Island had been an amusement park type place since 1880... ?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave makes a new acquaintance and visits the dreamland. The truth begins to come to light.

Coney Island at night was much different from Coney Island in the morning, and the carnival at night was even more so. There were less people, but there were people nonetheless. The sort of people that Gustave knew his father would tell him to avoid. Just like his father would tell him not to jump out windows and chase after people in masks who had mysteriously appeared on the balcony of a hotel room. It was easy to imagine his father's voice telling him what a terrible idea all of this was, but he could also imagine his father's expression, a quiet resignation to the fact that Gustave never listened to protests when he'd set his mind on something. Currently, that something was finding out where that masked person had disappeared to. Someone like that would probably stand out when there weren't as many people around, although the people around him seemed equally as strange.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

Gustave jumped at the sound of a voice behind him, hands over his mouth to stifle a startled cry as he whirled around to find the very person he was looking for! A man in a mask with striking gold eyes, dressed in a finely tailored suit. "You were on the balcony outside my hotel room! Why were you there? Why did you show up in the middle of the night? Why did you run away? Why are you wearing a mask, is there a masquerade? Mother said she was at a masquerade once, but I've never been to one. Are they fun?" At this point, he realized that the masked man was staring at him with the most curious expression. At least, as far as he could tell, that must've been the expression on his face. It was from what Gustave could see. "That is not reassuring whatsoever." This man sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. Maybe this was what a mystery would sound like if it had a sound.

But, it didn't matter how interesting the man sounded, when he used a tone just like his father did. "You're just like my father! You want me to say that I know I shouldn't be out here, you sound just like my father! As soon as something interesting happens, he wants me to leave it alone! Gustave, you can't do that, Gustave, that's improper, Gustave, don't be rude! Gustave, don't go running off in the middle of the night after strange people when you should be asleep! Gustave, we'll only be away from home for a week! You know, I spent a week on a boat to get here!" A huff escaped the boy, his arms crossed over his chest. "Who is your father? He sounds like someone who has your best interests in mind..."

Yes, Raoul always had his son's best interest at heart, although Gustave couldn't understand how preventing him from exploring was in his best interests — "My father is Raoul de Chagny! He made me come here with my mother because the Baroness Meg invited us to see the carnival..." Had he said something wrong? Now, the masked man had become still as a statue, he had been as soon as the name Raoul had left the boy's mouth. Was this man angry? Did he know his father? “Anyway, I’m Gustave. The carnival isn’t like it was this morning, there aren’t as many people. We didn’t make it to the main attraction, and since I chased you all the way here, I want you to show me around!” Another pause, before the man in the mask relented with a small nod.

* * *

This was, without a doubt, Christine’s son, as much as he was Raoul's. This boy with the same blond hair as she did, with grey eyes like he… And he certainly was demanding! Maybe that was the way children were raised in high society, expecting that everything would be handed to them on a silver platter. Not that Erik had any idea what such a childhood was like, but it seemed to make sense, all things considered. What didn't make sense was the boy's lack of wariness. Surely, if his parents had told him anything, he wouldn't be chasing after masked men. Funny, how he expected them to talk about him even when the likelihood of either of the two looking back was very slim.

* * *

Much to Gustave's frustration, the masked man answered very few questions that he asked. He had learned that the main attraction of the carnival was a place called "Phantasma", and that people went there mostly at night. He also learned that evidently, it wasn't a place where eight year olds should be, to which Gustave had snapped back that he was, in fact, ten. On top of that, he would be turning eleven in three months! For a man who scolded him with the same tone as his father, this mystery fellow certainly wasn't nearly as friendly. After getting no answer about the man's name, Gustave had decided to refer to him as Mister _Why_ , at least in his head. And probably to his parents. It was fitting, considering all the man managed to do was make Gustave ask questions, the biggest one was, in fact, why the man wouldn't answer the great majority of his questions. What was it about adults that made them think that he wasn't capable of understanding things?

His little unspoken tantrum came to an abrupt end as he reached the center of the carnival. Phantasma looked like a dream! Gustave could think of no architecture in the world that came close to the ingenuity of the building, and he could hear music and laughter from within! With Mister Why close behind him, the boy ran through the open doors of this dream land to find himself in the most colorful place he'd ever seen. There were people of all sorts chatting, although they didn't seem to notice him. Probably because he also decided to ignore the people for a piano sitting in a corner, which he immediately went to. His father's promise of not being without the piano for more than a week seemed to be true, just not in the way Gustave had assumed. So he sat and played and it was then that the patrons turned to him, their laughter and chatter now no more than hushed whispers. Whispers that he was shockingly aware of. They called him gifted, a boy with a soul much like the maestro who lived in this kingdom of wonder, the Angel of Music who had once been the great teacher of a young Swedish singer.

As the sights and sounds became muted, the world before Gustave spun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, this sure was a ride and it's only going to get more confusing from here, I'm sure. Hats off to Erik for not being too much of an ass to Gustave, because Erik has -9 social skills. 
> 
> Gustave thinks he's clever calling Erik "Mister Why" and he's right, that is clever. 
> 
> Gustave's view of Phantasma's architecture is a nod to the grand palaces Erik built... the ones that almost got him murdered by his own employers, because I am truly incapable of not dipping things heavily into Leroux territory.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave tells his parents about his midnight journey and takes a trip to the past.

When Gustave woke up, the door to the balcony was closed. He had no recollection of closing it, but he also had no recollection of returning to the hotel. His parents were talking about something, although he was still too disoriented to know what it was. Maybe it had all been a dream, but it had been incredibly vivid. Vivid enough that the very thought of the ordeal made him start to cry, drawing the attention of his parents immediately. "Oh, my dear boy! Did you have a nightmare?" Christine had pulled her son into a warm embrace before he had processed that she had moved at all, Raoul had sat on the side of the bed, a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. Gustave had been prone to odd dreams, some of which were nightmares, and on those nights he often went to his parents regardless of what odd hour of the night it may have been. "A man was here last night. On the balcony..."

His parents exchanged confused looks.

"He moved like a cat, he jumped from the balcony and landed without a sound! I went to follow him... Mister Why... he showed me the main attraction of the carnival and he thinks I'm eight." It certainly sounded like a dream to his parents, until Raoul asked what this 'Mister Why' looked like. Gustave's memory for people's faces was incredible and rarely did he miss even the smallest detail, whether in dreams or in his waking hours. "He was tall with dark hair and bright gold eyes! Like a panther! And he wore a white mask like he was going to a masquerade! He talked to me and his voice sounded like ... if mystery had a sound. That's why I named him Mister Why. He didn't tell me his name and I don't think he was too happy that I was out at night ..." The boy trailed off, noticing how tense his mother had become, and how all of the color had drained from his father's face. "Gustave," his mother's voice was filled with anxiety, "Where exactly did you go with this Mister Why?"

Then, Gustave talked about the sights, the sounds, a grand palace in the center of the carnival that could only have been built by the hand of some old God. About the people inside, and the music, and the piano! How grateful he was that his father hadn't actually lied to him about being away from the piano! He talked of guests who reminded him of myths that he'd read before, and how they whispered about him, because he'd played the piano. "They said I had a soul like their maestro, who was the Angel of Music! They said that he tutored a Swedish soprano... Mother, you were born in Sweden, right? Was your tutor the Angel Raphael? I understand now why he can't be my tutor... an angel wouldn't want to deal with someone like me... I'm too stubborn..." This didn't seem to make his parents feel any better. In fact, they looked even more terrified than he'd ever seen them look before. Even more than the time he'd fallen from a tree and broken his arm!

Christine, quite frankly, looked like she was going to cry. Raoul stood and said something about getting Baroness Meg into the room, because this was important. Gustave couldn't help but think of the reaction Mister Why had to him when he'd said his father was Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Did they know each other? Was Mister Why also an angel who served Raphael? Everything seemed like a blur until Baroness Meg sat down next to Christine, taking one of her hands in a gesture of sympathetic friendship. "Gustave, I do owe you an explanation... It isn't fair for me or your father or Meg to keep this from you. You wanted to know if my tutor was the Angel of Music... I used to think that he was. But, I was young and foolish at the time. He was not someone to be careless around." Gustave perked up immediately, his grey eyes sparkling, ready to give his full attention to his mother and to her story. "What was he, if not an angel? Angels aren’t to be taken lightly, mother. They come by God’s will and they always say not to be afraid. But you look afraid. You’ve looked like that since I started talking about Mister Why! And the color’s drained from Father’s face! You said you parted ways with your tutor, so he could’ve been an angel!"

“He wasn’t an angel. He was a man in a mask,” came Raoul’s voice. Gustave could sense some form of annoyance, or maybe anger, that made him recoil. How unlike his kind father to speak of anyone with a tone like that. Except for whenever he talked about his late uncle, his father’s brother, the Comte de Chagny. Evidently, his father was always in his brother’s shadow, and then the Comte died… That was never explained and Gustave had never asked any more questions about that situation. “This Mister Why… what did you tell him? Did you tell him anything?” A pause. His father was certainly going to scold him, but it was wrong to lie! “He said I shouldn’t be outside at night… I told him he was scolding me like you always did and then he said that you must be a good father and asked me who you were. And I told him. Do you know him? He was so distant after I told him who you were, he didn’t answer any of my questions other than telling me that the place we were going to, the main attraction of the carnival, is Phantasma.”

Now, the Baroness paled, looking as if she had been punched in the gut, or perhaps as if she’d suddenly aged ten years simply from hearing all of that strung together. “Yes, Phantasma is at the center of this carnival… but I don’t think… your mystery man can’t possibly be here.” Because it had to be a dream. He must’ve dreamed up someone who was what he’d assume a mysterious tutor would be. It had been in the paper, three months after Christine had emerged from the catacombs with Raoul. Meg had been the one to show her the three words: _Erik is dead_.

“My tutor was not an angel, like your father says. He was a man named Erik. I think… no, I know that you deserve to hear the story of the Phantom of the Opera.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So honestly it just hit me that ALW's whole 'Mister Y' thing literally is just probably a play on 'mystery' and i feel sorta dumb that this absolutely never crossed my mind until I was in the middle of this chapter. No thoughts head empty on this end. 
> 
> Clearly, everyone is traumatized and completely in disbelief, and once again I add in a healthy dose of Leroux references. 
> 
> Gustave's description of Erik moving like a cat is a good shoutout to that one time Raoul shot at Erik and was told he probably hit a cat instead. I also had to add in the Philippe cameo, but with my healthy Leroux dose, he is, of course, dead. No thanks to Erik. I'd always imagined his relationship with Raoul to be strained...


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave learns the story of the Phantom of the Opera. Raoul tries to explain the nature of talent.

Christine had found a comfortable position to sit in, for she was well aware that this would be a very long story, mostly because she understood that Gustave would ask as many questions as possible. Unlike his mysterious Mister Why, she would do her best to answer as many as possible. With her son staring intently at her, she took a breath and prepared herself for looking back on a time that she almost wished that she had completely forgotten.

“It was in January of 1880 that I first met Erik. I had come to Paris from Sweden in 1876 and had decided to train at the Opera Populaire. A kind woman, Madame Valerius, had taken me in since I had nowhere else to stay. Within my first week, I had found a place in the ballet, rather than as a singer, and had become friends with Meg. The Prima Ballerina, La Sorelli, had taken interest in my surname— Your grandfather, your namesake, was a talented violinist. Perhaps that is why you show so much interest in music written for the violin… La Sorelli wanted to know if I shared any of that talent, although at the time, I proved rather incompetent. I was happy in the ballet, and the friends I made there are friends I will cherish for the rest of my life. You know, I still keep in touch with Sorelli and Jammes, the fourth of our little group. The rest of the company called us ballet rats— we were always in trouble with Meg's mother...”

* * *

_Mme. Giry slammed her cane on the stage, startling the dancers who had decided to forego their practice for gossip about the Opera Ghost. "Did you hear, he caused the backdrop to fall on Carlotta." "He's been terrorizing the managers again." "They really pay him twenty-thousand francs a month, you know!" "They're paying him to not make a mess of the theater." "Are you dancers? Get back to practice!" This was the way things were at the Opera Populaire. For as frightening as the stories of the Opera Ghost were, Christine found herself comforted by this group of girls who were so eager to spread gossip all over. It was as normal as things had been since her father died. So what if they talked about a ghost, she had her own oddities as well! It was enjoyable, although she shared the same view as the so called Ghost, Carlotta had a powerful voice, but she had no emotion!_

_Christine had often wondered what it would be like to sing instead of dance, although her experience with vocal performance was either for her friends, Meg had tried her best not to laugh, or standing alone backstage or sneaking into a dressing room. It was on one of those nights singing in a dressing room alone that she heard him. The Phantom of the Opera, the Angel of Music. For six months he tutored her from the shadows, and they had been friends. She had grown comfortable with the routine, telling her Angel all about her life. About how she wished she had dark hair like Meg, she hated her blond curls, they were always tangled! She loved singing and she knew she wasn't a great dancer, and her friends had always been so supportive. And he listened, he always listened._

_The day came where he told her that the world was going to hear her song, through less than savory means, he secured her the role of Marguerite in_ Faust _, and she sang for him! She gave her soul, which he called a gift greater than any emperor could hope to receive. That night, he brought her down to his kingdom of music, the house on the lake— He sang to her, and she was so very enchanted by him, an angel who wore a mask, and against her better judgement, she tore the mask from his face._

"Oh, the sound he made, a howl like a wounded animal! He grabbed my wrist and forced me to look upon his face— I will never forget it..." Gustave stared at his mother before letting his mind wander back to Mister Why, who wore a mask. His mother spoke of a deformity, if angels were so horrifying to mortals, then he had the face of an angel.

_"Glut your curiosity, Christine," the man cried, "Am I not handsome? Even my own mother would not kiss me! She gave me a mask— Oh, mad Christine! Now that you have looked upon this accursed ugliness, you will never be free!" She'd recoiled and time seemed to slow to a crawl as the man who was most certainly not an angel dropped to his knees before her, clutched the hem of her skirt in his hands, and wept! She learned that the man was named Erik, and that he was prone to horrible mood swings, and that he was most certainly dangerous. He had a deep love for keeping beautiful things, and an even deeper love for breaking them._

"Mother, he let you go... He must've, because you're here with me and Father and Baroness Meg!" To Gustave, the story was so horridly tragic, even if he didn't really understand all of it, and some of it he was convinced his mother had made up just to keep him interested— "Yes .. yes, he let me go, but he took me away twice. First, I stayed with him for two weeks after I had taken his mask ... He gave me a plain gold ring... and told me that so long as I wore it, no harm would come to me, and I would be able to return above ground. When I returned, I begged your father to run away with me, away from Erik's terrible wrath and his music that burned!"

_Erik had been more than ready to set the entire Opera House ablaze, a wild look in his eyes as he presented Christine with a choice. How he gloated about how he held the life of her boy in his hand, but he would put it in her hand— he presented her with a choice, a scorpion or a grasshopper. To turn the scorpion would be to bind herself to him forever, to turn the grasshopper— well, the grasshopper would jump jolly high! Her options were to allow Raoul and the Daroga who had escorted him to live but to be bound to a man who could bend her to his will with simply his voice, or to free herself from him in death, death that would take so many innocent lives! "Erik, Erik, you may let them go, I have turned the scorpion!"_

"You are here, Mother! You turned the scorpion and yet you are here... What happened to Erik?" Tears had filled Gustave's eyes. This time, Raoul spoke, gently, as not to cause his poor son any further distress, or to try to soften the blows to come— "Your mother showed him kindness and compassion. She allowed him to kiss her... they cried together... And he let her go, giving us his blessing... Three months later, Meg came to tell us that he had died. Your mother fulfilled a final promise she had made to him..." At this, Gustave began to shake. The promise, as it turned out, was to return and bury Erik's body! Hearing the words from his father's lips and seeing how his mother openly wept— "Mother, you loved him!" It was so obvious! Of course she wouldn't talk about someone who she...

Did he remind his parents of Erik? Was that why they didn't want him to sit at the piano all day? Was that why they pushed him to make friends and brought him to America? That must be it! "Why didn't you tell me? You say all of those things to make me act like anyone else because I remind you of him! Father, that's why you won't let me near Paganini, Mother, you never stay with me for more than an hour when I play... you loved him! Maybe you kept this from me because I'm just as much his as yours!" At this, Raoul felt something inside him crack. He pulled his now hysterical son into his arms and stroked his hair— "No, that's not it. Gustave, I've told you so many times... I don't want you at the piano all day because learning an instrument is as vigorous as learning any other skill! What you do is as incredible as what the world's greatest athletes do, and much like them, you will hurt yourself if you don't take breaks!" He waited then, until Gustave had stopped crying and had decided to return the hug, "Your predisposition for music does not make you his, that's not how things work. Your mother had that talent in her, your grandfather was a famous violinist. Please, don't ever doubt who you are." Gustave was certain that his father said that for the both of them.

"I... I want to go back to the carnival. In the daylight. I want to spend time with Baroness Meg... I want to be able to do what you want me to do and not doubt myself." Christine and Raoul exchanged looks as Gustave went to change into day-clothes before grabbing Meg's hand. A great weight settled upon the both of them as their son all but dragged the Baroness out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, it's a blend of Leroux and ALW ... I guess. 
> 
> Raoul's statements about talent are in fact legitimate. Practice is really important, no one is born with the immediate skill to do something, but people have predispositions that can be built on. Gustave doesn't know that, but he'll learn.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave spends a day with Meg. Raoul and Christine come to a new understanding.

Gustave had never been so determined to just forget about anything in his entire life, but for once, his curiosity had finally led him to learning something that he would rather not have learned at all. He knew that people could love others, and maybe that shouldn't have been a huge surprise, but he did like his family structure. Just him, his mother, and his father. And sometimes his grandparents, but not that often. Now, the structure that he had grown so familiar with seemed to have been utterly uprooted. This mysterious tutor, Erik... who was most certainly his Mister Why... "Gustave, do you want to go on a ride? Do you think that will help?" The Baroness offered a smile , awkward , but Gustave appreciated her effort. Of course he was in shock, learning so much and finding that he had so many questions still. At least he knew that he couldn't ask his parents the questions he had — so, he'd ask Mister Why. It just required sneaking out of the room late at night and finding his way back to Phantasma on his own.

"Gustave?"

Right, the rides. With a small nod, the young vicomte followed Baroness Meg to the Venetian boats. A calming ride where they could both just enjoy the scenery. Baroness Meg was just as stressed about the situation too, right? As far as Gustave knew, everyone was having their doubts, so time apart ... in the rare moments when his parents fought, they took time away, and when they were calm again, things were back to normal. There was no reason that the same couldn't apply here. Some time exploring the carnival and going on rides with Baroness Meg was surely a fine way for him to calm down, and when he was calm, he'd go back to the hotel to be with his parents. And Baroness Meg could go back to doing whatever it was that she wanted to do.

Whatever that was, he'd certainly interrupted — A polite boy apologizes, came his father's voice in his thoughts. "I'm sorry... for ... just dragging you here with me ..." Meg perked up, this time her smile was bright and genuine. "Gustave, it's ok to need time to just have fun. Your mother tells me you spend a lot of time playing music, but she always writes about how she wants you to have time to be a kid. I don't mind being here with you, I quite like finding ways to have fun." At this, the boy laughed, a sweet and angelic sound, one that really did remind Meg of the past.

* * *

"Christine, we have to talk about this,"

While Gustave was working through his stress by having fun with Meg, Raoul knew that he had to work out whatever had happened with Christine. Ten years ago, both their worlds had been shaken by events that they would never really forget. For ten years, Raoul had done everything he could to keep Christine happy, to give her the summertime he promised all those years ago on the rooftop of the Opera Populaire, to make sure she never felt lonely. And until this day, he thought he was doing a fine job of it. Of being a good husband to his wife. Of course, nothing was ever simple; nothing had been simple since Erik had decided to take Christine down to his house by the lake, since he presented her with an ultimatum, since she kissed him and he let her go. "Christine, I won't be angry at you, we just need to talk..."

Christine knew this. For the sake of their marriage, they had to talk and maybe things would finally feel better for the both of them. Surely, Raoul was too good to her, always doting and always understanding, even in situations like these. "Raoul, are you wondering if Gustave is his? I swear to you that I don't know— I won't lie to you, I don't know—" Her sweet Raoul, still so very understanding, had pulled her into his arms, holding onto her tightly, whispering apologies, as if he had anything to apologise for! He wasn't the one who had felt so conflicted, who had visited a man on his deathbed and... "Raoul, I thought he would die there... He was so cold! The Daroga was with him... watching over him... I shouldn't have done what I did, and right before we were wed! Oh, God, how can you still comfort me knowing this?" Perhaps that was the thing about love, real love. Raoul had always suspected that something had changed, perhaps in those two weeks that Christine spent with Erik in the house by the lake. The man had been her teacher, her friend, of course she must've cared for him, whatever that meant. Raoul had seen firsthand the extent of Erik's so called love, which ten years ago he would've called obsession, but now?

Yes, Erik had loved Christine with real love, too. There was a certain strength in letting Christine go, even if it meant causing great pain to his soul, but Christine hadn't escaped without her own agonies. She sang, but not like she used to. She never spoke of the Angel of Music, she never spoke of a voice haunting her— She'd tried to forget until that day, and Raoul knew it. And when Meg had shown up with the news, Christine had cried, cried as if some integral part of her soul had just been ripped out, and she'd told him that she was going back to fulfill her promise! She told him, he knew. Raoul always knew that there was a possibility that something would happen, because Christine had a heart that could hold the world! Because her love could encompass so many people— At times, Raoul thought that perhaps she fancied Meg or Sorelli or Jammes. God forbid she'd been with Sorelli, Philippe would've had something to say. "You loved him, love isn't a sin, Christine. What did he say to you? When you went to bury him..."

"He told me I was a good person and that he wanted me to be happy with you, Raoul! He told me that simply returning his gold ring was enough, that he could die in peace... He was so cold! But it was me, I was the one who wanted... It was so foolish, I don't know what I was thinking!" Ten years ago, Christine had been convinced that she'd spent the last hours of Erik's life at his side, giving him something that she should've given to her husband. Although, in her mind, she emerged from the catacombs a widow before she'd ever been a bride! What a horrid thing, love. She'd never asked for her endless love and compassion. She never asked for the pain that Erik and Raoul had gone through. She'd only ever prayed for an angel. "The Daroga told me that he would take care of the burial... He didn't want me to see it, the very end, and I didn't want to see it either ... so I left him when ... Oh, Raoul! I'm certain he died in my arms! I couldn't stay... Whatever I did to him... I thought it would be a comfort, but what if I only hastened his death?"

Yes, her love was infinite, and the more Raoul thought about it, the more he realized that perhaps Erik hadn't died. Christine had left after believing he was dead, but she hadn't seen the coffin buried in the ground... It was only further proof that Erik's love was real love. If he'd faked his own death and left Paris just so she could believe she was free, even if he lived the rest of his life an empty shell, wasn't that a mark of real love? Perhaps it was still twisted, but certainly Erik had Christine's best interest at heart. Over ten years, Raoul had come to understand that Erik, too, had a heart that could hold empires. That the cruelty of others had forced him to live in solitude. He'd learned Erik's story, too, while he wondered if he'd die in that chamber. He learned that Erik wasn't a monster, but a human being who never had the help he needed when it mattered most.

"I don't care if Gustave is his, you know. We raised him, so as far as I see it, he's just as much mine as he is yours. Your love for Erik isn't a sin, it never was and it never will be. Just like your love for me isn't a sin." At this, Christine only cried harder, but she managed to pepper her husband's face with kisses, whispering her own words of love as he tried desperately to wipe away her tears.

A knock on the hotel door brought everything to an abrupt stop, Christine composing herself and heading to the door. She'd barely let go of it before Gustave had barreled into her, holding on tight. "Did you have a good time at the carnival?" Her voice wavered, but the bright smile on her face mirrored her son's. Gustave bid a good evening to Meg before he began to tell his mother all about his day.

Outside the now closed door, Meg smiled in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok wow this took longer to write than I thought. The Daroga is an IMPORTANT CHARACTER and deserves to be in adaptations of PotO, and he is not in enough of them. 
> 
> To answer questions, the point is it doesn't matter who Gustave's biological father is, he's got a great family as it is. You guys can make that decision for yourselves. 
> 
> No one can tell me Raoul wouldn't understand Christine caring about and even sleeping with Erik, Raoul is a GOOD PERSON and has self confidence!!! and he Loves Christine! Also ten years gives people a lot of time to reflect on things, so even if he would've freaked out ten years ago, he's had a lot of time to process things.
> 
> Meg is a blessing, I love her, I also love Meg But Bisexual. 
> 
> Similarly bisexual Christine. Raoul knows Christine loves everyone and he's cool with it and I love him for it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave begins to understand more about the dream world of Phantasma and receives a private lesson.

Sleep didn't come to Gustave that night. While he'd managed to resolve his little struggle with the information his mother had given him, there was so much he wanted to learn from the other party involved in the ordeal. His mother's tutor, who he was certain was his Mister Why. He waited until his parents were most certainly asleep before crawling out of the bed and heading to the balcony door. If he left for answers, he could make things worse, but if he never asked... Asking was the lesser of two evils. Mister Why had returned him before his parents woke up the last time he'd been out late, so there was no reason for him not to do the same thing a second time. Steeling his nerves, Gustave opened the balcony door, closing it softly behind him, and climbing down to the ground, thankfully with more grace than his first attempt. He would learn the truth, surely as he ran toward the lights of the carnival, he was running toward a truth that would be freeing.

* * *

Just as it was the first time, Phantasma was alight at the center of the carnival. This time, Gustave was able to really look at its structure, the ornate designs that reminded him of places he'd only read about in books. It seemed like it was built to endure, and for his mother's sake, he hoped it would. She'd want the place to be around for her teacher, right? Because Mister Why lived in Phantasma, right? After examining the entrance to what was certainly the kingdom of music, Gustave stepped inside. There were guests chatting, although this time he was able to get a good look at them, too. What he'd previously thought were odd masks turned out to be the faces of the patrons of Phantasma! Their real faces, unlike any he'd seen before. Faces that made his heart pound and his head spin, even in the odd lights that surely both revealed and hid. It was rude to stare, he knew that, but how could he not gawk at people so different from him? Maybe this idea of trying to seek out Mister Why on his own wasn't as great as he thought. Certainly, it wasn't going according to the plan he had in his head at all! 

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, this time the scream wasn't muffled. Gustave whirled around, stumbling back and landing awkwardly on the floor. Above him loomed Mister Why, who seemed less than pleased. "I told you this was no place for children," came that voice, and Gustave managed to calm his breathing and gather his courage, even if it was only out of frustration. "I wanted to find you. I told my parents about you and this dreamland. My mother told me about the Angel of Music, who was her tutor. I wanted to see the Angel with my own eyes." At this, Mister Why began to laugh, and not in a merry way. It was bitter and lonely and far from angelic, but Gustave reminded himself that angels were not to be trifled with. He resolved to go to confessional as soon as he made it back home. Back to his real home. For now, he stayed exactly where he was, having what seemed to be a very tense stand off with a divine being.

"There are no such thing as angels."

Gustave's jaw dropped, his brow furrowed, and then the anger flared. He hadn't come all the way to Phantasma to just have the Angel of Music tell him lies like that! "You lie! My mother said you were an angel! You wear a mask to hide your face because normal people can't look at the face of an angel! If you're not the Angel of Music, then..." Mister Why was looking at him as if he was ready to strike him down with the wrath of God. _Honestly_ , Gustave thought, with a very smug look on his face, _if he does that then he's only proving that I'm right. He won't smite me because he doesn't want to prove me right._ And Mister Why did not bring the wrath of God down upon the young Vicomte, but he did reach out to grab Gustave's arm, pulling him to his feet. "Come with me." The smug look on Gustave's face broke into a bright smile, his grey eyes sparkling. Finally, he was going to get answers, and maybe he'd stop calling the angel Mister Why, and he'd start calling him Erik. The name his mother said belonged to the Angel of Music. Erik must've been the name he chose, because the Angel of Music was Raphael, any good boy who went to Mass on Sunday knew that!

If Gustave was any other child, he'd be worried about going somewhere with a man in a mask, but he wasn't. Curiosity drove him to be courageous, perhaps impulsive, and his eyes never left the white mask that Mister Why wore. The white mask would have to go, he decided, as his mother had said that she had looked upon the face of the Angel of Music and she hadn't died, and her eyes hadn't been burned from her skull, and she certainly wasn't abandoned by God— Which only meant that he'd be able to do the same thing. Maybe if he asked enough, Mister Why would take off the mask on his own.

Finally, the two had arrived in a cavernous room with acoustics that Gustave had never thought could exist. No matter where he stood once Mister Why had let go of his arm, the sound of the voice was perfect— A voice that came from somewhere unseen. After a few minutes, Gustave gave up on trying to figure out how there had been a disembodied voice in the first place, since Mister Why hadn't said a thing to him while dragging him to this place. "Where are we? There are so many instruments in here! Is this the kingdom of music?" Mister Why seemed different here, a little more relaxed, or perhaps it was resignation. He wasn't as tense as he'd been in the grand foyer of Phantasma, but there were people there, too. Gustave realized that he must've made quite the scene. "Sorry... for being so disruptive... I just want to know! My mother cried when I asked... when I told her about this place, and Baroness Meg looked pale, and I've never seen her pale before, she's always got color, and my father told me that just because I had talent didn't mean I wasn't his son, because Mother made it sound like..." Once again, Gustave realized that he needed to stop talking. Just as their first meeting, Mister Why had that look on his face, like when Gustave had said his father was Raoul de Chagny, but a little different. This look had more sadness and less animosity, and a lot of shock. "Who is your mother?" Gustave noted how Mister Why's voice seemed to waver, how he seemed to fidget with the cufflinks of his coat. "Christine de Chagny is my mother. She's a singer!"

Mister Why remained silent for a little too long for Gustave's liking, and to fill the silence, he ran to one of the pianos in the room. Sitting, he began to play, until he heard a huff from behind him. "Don't hunch over like that when you play. Back straight, start from the beginning." If it had been anyone other than Mister Why saying those things, Gustave would've thrown a tantrum. Instead, he did exactly what the angel told him to do. After what couldn't have been more than a minute, he felt Mister Why physically positioning his body. Old habits were hard to break, and he'd never been tutored by a tutor he liked, certainly never by an angel! The delight of having Mister Why give him any instructions at all seemed to satisfy Gustave's curiosity, making him forget about the things he wanted to ask, about the strange people in the grand foyer, about how much time had passed. It must've been an hour or so before Mister Why told him to stop playing. Gustave couldn't help but notice how it wasn't a suggestion, but an outright command. "You need to return to your parents. Remember what I told you the next time you play." Gustave gave a small nod, following Mister Why back to the grand foyer of Phantasma. Much to his delight, Mister Why escorted him all the way back to the hotel, helping him up to the balcony. Gustave went to open the balcony door and paused. Turning back, he smiled before wrapping his arms around Mister Why's waist. "Thank you for the lesson, Erik." With that, the boy let go and went inside and crawled into his bed.

The Angel of Music made sure that the balcony door closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gustave is literally the most precious thing? I never thought I'd have this much fun writing from a child's perspective. 
> 
> Gustave can't figure out Erik's ventriloquism and honestly I wouldn't expect him to. He just thinks Erik is an angel, because he's ten years old and everything Erik does only convinces him more.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave returns to the carnival with his parents, but finds himself face to face with a part of society he'd never seen before.

Gustave woke up in an excellent mood. Satisfied with his little midnight adventure's results, he was eager to go back to the carnival, this time with his parents. After all, they deserved to at least see Phantasma, which was the main attraction, or so Baroness Meg thought. It was popular at night, possibly because it was the only place still open, or perhaps because it really was the main draw of the carnival. Either way, Gustave was determined to make it to Phantasma, no matter how big and loud the crowd was. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that maybe if they went there, his parents could have some closure. Any good boy would want that for his parents, especially when they had met Mister Why — no, the Angel of Music, before.

"Gustave, what are you smiling about? Did you have another dream?" Christine took a brush to fix her son's hair, which was much like hers in its tendency to be tangled in the morning. "Yes, I had a dream about the Angel of Music. He gave me a piano lesson! He told me not to slouch and he showed me the right way to position my hands! He was strict, but he was better than the seven tutors Father hired." Christine paused in her task of detangling her son's bedhead, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "Yes, I suppose he would be strict... That is an incredibly specific dream, though." _Surely_ , she thought, _it is only a dream_. Gustave only encountered Erik at night, he woke up in his bed, and while she hadn't seen the Daroga lay him to rest... Erik, if he had lived, had left to free her. But, it could certainly be the work of real angels. Gustave was a good boy who sought answers that other people couldn't really explain. But an angel could. God could.

"I want to take you there... to Phantasma! We can just skip everything else in between so I don't get overwhelmed!" Gustave squirmed away from his mother, satisfied that she'd done enough to his hair, a determined look upon his face. Her expression seemed a mix of concern and curiosity. His father seemed tense, but managed a smile. If Gustave wanted to show them this place, then who were they to deny him? So they would allow this. Baroness Meg and Baron Edmond had some very fancy meeting to go to, much to Gustave's dismay, but he was reassured that they would all be able to have dinner together that night.

* * *

Determined to reach Phantasma, Gustave did his best to ignore the other attractions around him. As much as he wanted to go on more rides or play a few games, he simply had to let his parents experience the beauty of the carnival’s biggest attraction! He ran ahead of his parents, certain that they would keep up with him, because he couldn’t fathom the possibility that the wouldn’t be just as enthusiastic about going to Phantasma as he was. If he’d understood the past like Baroness Meg did, he’d know why they were so apprehensive, but he didn’t. In Gustave’s mind, he imagined that being able to see the Angel of Music would be a way for his mother to say goodbye to some very important part of her life. He certainly had enough wits about him to know that his mother would never return to the Angel of Music forever, for she had a family, she had his father and she had him! But, if she never faced this important part of her life… It was the same logic that his parents used on him. If he never faced difficult things, he would never move forward. Glancing back, he noted that his parents were still there, and that they seemed to have figured out what his thought process was. Of course they had, his parents had their wits about them, and good parents knew their own children! With this thought, he seemed to relax. Whether or not he’d managed to clear his head of the initial shock and idea that perhaps his father was only a father in name, the thought was still there. But Raoul knew him well, and a good father knew his son. The Angel of Music, Mister Why, he didn’t know anything other than what Gustave had told him. Which had been quite a lot, but it was enough for the boy to decide that he had nothing to worry about in the matters of his family.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, a person about his size, another boy his age, perhaps? His parents had wanted him to make friends, and without much thought, Gustave decided to follow the other boy. His parents had stopped to look at the Venetian boats, allowing their son to find himself lost very quickly. Gustave had never seen this part of the carnival, with its odd tents and music, but not the type he would expect. It seemed like there were people singing folk songs from foreign lands, there was an air of camaraderie, and there was something very, very lonely along with it. And the boy he’d followed to this place turned out not to be a boy at all, but a middle aged man with a large mustache and a worn face, slightly lopsided. Gustave couldn’t help but gasp. The little mustached man didn’t seem to notice Gustave, and had instead gone over to one of the tents. He said something in a language Gustave didn’t understand, and a person came out. Gustave let out a shriek. The person who had come out from the tent was a large woman with deep red curls and a matching red beard. He thought of the people who had been in the grand foyer of Phantasma, of how he realized what he had thought were masks were their faces! The woman with the beard turned to look right at him, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. _Truly_ , Gustave thought, _she would be very beautiful without a beard_. But why couldn’t she be beautiful with a beard? “Are you lost?” Her voice was rich and warm, and Gustave suddenly felt very bad for screaming and even worse for what he realized was a judgment made of prejudice. “Yes … yes, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I screamed, that was rude of me, I’ve just never seen…”

“Freaks?” The little mustached man finished Gustave’s sentence with an odd amusement in his reedy voice. Gustave frowned. “I wasn’t going to say that. That’s cruel to say about someone… I’ve never been to a carnival before, I came here with my parents. They wanted me to get out of the house and stop playing the piano so much and…” The woman with the beard and the little mustached man exchanged looks. “You’re the boy who came to play the piano at Phantasma the other night,” said the mustached man, a lopsided smile spreading across his face, which Gustave had begun to compare to worn leather. Wrinkled, but not unpleasant. Just different. “Yes. That was all real, then? My parents thought I was dreaming. I think they still think I’m dreaming. I wanted to take them to see Phantasma, but I’m lost…” A bright blush crossed the boy’s face as his stomach growled loudly, and the bearded woman let out a hearty laugh, beckoning Gustave to come into the tent for food before they found someone who wouldn’t be so distressing to the rest of the world to guide him back.

Gustave gave a nod, stepping into a world full of color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good on Gustave for being so quick on realizing that he's got some biases because of being raised in high society. Christine and Raoul are great parents, but Gustave just has a tendency to run off places without thinking, as we've seen in prior chapters. Impulse control is not one of his talents, but his curiosity will allow him to grow as a person.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gustave learns about the most prominent people at Phantasma and learns to look with his soul rather than his eyes.

These were the people who had been at Phantasma that night, of that Gustave was certain. It was an odd group, some recoiled from him, but some were incredibly curious. After all, he'd been brought to their little part of the carnival by Agathe, who Gustave quickly learned was the mother-figure to the others. The little mustached man was named Thomas, and he had known Agathe since she was sixteen. To think that these people who looked quite different from those Gustave saw on a day-to-day basis could be so similar! Truly, in their presence, he felt as if he'd been ill taught about the world, and he'd been so certain that his parents had told him the right things— Except, they omitted the existence of people like Agathe and Thomas and their found family. He'd have to ask about that, later. For now, Gustave knew that this experience, no, this opportunity would be a profound change in his life. A sort of eye opening thing, and while he hadn't the slightest _how_ , he was certain that if he opened his mind he'd emerge a fuller person than he could've dreamed of being before.

Because his dreams had never included an experience like _this_. Because it was not so long ago that he'd been in the de Chagny manor playing piano for hours on end. Because he'd thought that he'd been open-minded and he saw now that he was very wrong in his own self-assessment. What was it that his father always told him? That one day something so profound would happen, that it would shake him to the core and he'd know what he was meant to do and who he was meant to become.

This was it, that profound moment—

"How long have you all been... have you lived in New York all your lives? Have you traveled to other places?" The questions were rapid-fire, eliciting warm laughter from Agathe as she handed Gustave a bowl of soup and a few slices of bread. "We come from all around the world. You see, while some people won't understand you, there will always be others who do." What a bright outlook on life! Gustave gave a small nod, silently urging Agathe to tell him more. From the looks of it, she and the others had never had someone like Gustave show interest in their lives. Perhaps that was what made the tension among the others melt away at the sight of this ten year old boy who so quickly was learning to look not with his eyes, but with his soul.

Agathe was born in Austria, and had been blessed with kind parents. She'd run away on her own as not to cause them shame. "I could only hear the townsfolk saying things to my parents about me. Oh, what a shame, she was so pretty before she had a beard, things like that. I don't know if they truly understood why I left, and there are days where I wonder what life would've been like if I'd stayed. I wrote to them often, so they would know I was alive. They asked me many times to return home..." There was a sorrow in her voice, one that convinced Gustave that she had the soul of a saint. "They visited me soon after I moved to Italy, where I met Thomas. They were always kind, it is why I know that not everyone judges a book by its cover." Gustave gave a small nod.

As Agathe had said, Thomas lived in Italy, although his parents had been English. He was not so lucky with them. While Gustave could see nothing different about Thomas aside from his stature and slightly lopsided face, he had been sold to another carnival, they had called him The Goblin, and until he'd escaped, he was a star attraction. "Agathe and I have been like siblings since we met. I have her to thank for a new outlook on life. I am old, dear boy, and in my years I have learned that my size does not make me any less powerful, it makes what I do different. You must remember, being different is not a curse, it's simply a fact of life." Yes, that was true, a sound conclusion.

Thomas introduced Gustave to Alice, who took pride in her talent as a dancer and as a contortionist. She had been born in New York and had recently found her way to Phantasma, which she described as a safe haven for anyone who was looking for a place to call home. "I'm certain I could've lived a fairly standard life, but I learned that there was something that came from experiencing the camaraderie of those in Phantasma, and of those who saw the world for the multi-faceted thing that it is." Alice looked like any other girl that Gustave would've imagined, fair skin, blond hair that fell in ringlet curls, and brown eyes, lending her the appearance of a doe. She had a laugh that sounded like a bell, or maybe a bird. One that made Gustave blush. "You know, you remind me of myself when I was ten..."

"That wasn't so long ago, was it?" Gustave turned to see a man with large arms and clubbed feet. "After all, you're still quite young." This man, Georg, was born in Sweden, which Gustave could've guessed from his thick accent. If Agathe was the mother of Phantasma's found-family, Georg was the father. According to Georg, Alice was only fourteen, although she held herself with the grace of someone much older. "Only because I want to be taken seriously! It's tough being the youngest in a group, even when I perform, people take me seriously if they think I'm grown up." Gustave gave a nod, that was certainly true, although his interest was drawn more to the other part of her statement. "You perform?" There was a heavy feeling in his chest. Thomas had experienced the cruelty of closed-minded people. Agathe had left her home out of concern for the disaster that she'd been so certain of. Alice, as it turned out, was an orphan, which explained quite a bit. At least, to Gustave, it made sense as to why she wanted to be seen as an adult. As someone who could take care of herself.

"Not all of us perform," Alice said, a gentle smile upon her face, which Gustave had decided was very pretty. "I choose to perform, to dance. Agathe sings sometimes. We do have shows at Phantasma, not everything happens at night. Actually, I'll be dancing later today. I should probably meet with the rest of the corps, but... I'd love to see you in the crowd!" With that, Alice rushed out of the colorful tent.

A show at Phantasma! He'd have to go with his parents... His parents who were certainly very worried about him! It was then that someone else entered the tent. Dressed in clothes that Gustave guessed were of Persian fashion, after a moment of staring, he realized that this person must be Mister Why— Erik, the Archangel Raphael. The conclusion was drawn mostly due to the fact that Gustave could think of no one else with bright gold eyes, but other than that... he looked nothing like he had in any of their previous encounters. He wasn't wearing a mask, and Gustave took a small step back, bumping into Agathe. She placed a gentle hand on Gustave's shoulder. "No one here is a threat to you. But, I suppose when you came to play the piano, he looked different." Gustave nodded slowly.

He wasn't exactly sure how he'd describe Mister Why's face. Really, it was more like trying to put a puzzle together, with how much contrast there was in it. So, he processed it in bits and pieces. Truly, it was a regal face in structure, strong angles, high cheekbones, and of course those sharp golden eyes, long, dark lashes. There was no way around the deformity, although the longer Gustave stared, the more he thought of it like some form of avant garde art. Maybe the juxtaposition of the regal and avant garde aspects of Mister Why's face was what made his mother call it the face of an angel, although Gustave wasn't quite certain what was ugly about it. But perhaps the most interesting thing that Gustave noticed was Mister Why's hair. A rusty red, turning white. He had been wearing a wig before. "I quite like this color better," he muttered, "it's real. I like things that are real."

There was a silence that fell in the tent, no one daring to speak. Gustave watched as Mister Why headed to grab a cloak with a hood. He managed to at least manage some form of goodbye, thanking Agathe for the soup, for her story, thanking Thomas and Georg for being so kind to him, before he was all but dragged out of the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a LOT of personal thoughts about what Erik looks like, also some symbolism. Red hair has often been associated with magic. Gustave's inability to actually process Erik's face is because he's just trying to process way too much at once. Welcome to Charles Dance style "Imagine this on your own". 
> 
> I just really wanted to throw in a Healthy Found Family dynamic in here ok, and I want everyone to know that I adore all of these characters and would ABSOLUTELY die for them.
> 
> Alice is the prima ballerina at Phantasma, serving the performance role that ALW tried to slap Meg in, except Alice is doing like traditional ballet because Erik would never try to make a fourteen year old do something like Bathing Beauty good lord. 
> 
> Gustave has a crush he's soft and I love him? He has been so fun to write.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Raoul learn the truth. Gustave takes his parents to a show.

"WHAT WERE YOU DOING THERE?!" Gustave recoiled at Mister Why's anger, trying in vain to free his wrist from the now wrathful angel's grip. Even if Agathe had said that he wouldn't be harmed, maybe the bearded woman had never seen the angel like this. Maybe she'd never seen the angel's face contorted with some horrible mix of concern and rage! Or maybe Agathe and the others were just brave, because regardless of their circumstances, the world hadn't always been kind. Gustave had lived a life of luxury, the pampered son of Raoul de Chagny, blessed with soft features and great talent. He'd never been ridiculed, he'd never known that cruelty that the others had faced. It dawned on him that Mister Why now saw him as a threat to the found family. Because he saw Gustave as a shallow boy whose only saving grace was his talent as a pianist.

Mister Why did have a history with his parents, and Gustave realized how horrible this misunderstanding was. "I thought ... I followed Thomas, I saw him when I was trying to guide my parents to Phantasma... I thought he was a boy my age from behind..." Mister Why stopped walking and Gustave managed to slam unceremoniously into the angel's back with a soft grunt. Now, there was silence, but the rage was melting away, which most certainly made the angel more tolerable to look at. Was it the angel's rage that had frightened his mother? "Then... I saw Agathe, she realized I was lost and she offered me some delicious soup— And I met Alice! She invited me to her show today!" A soft pink color came to Gustave's face as he thought of the blond girl with her doe eyes. "And Georg, he comes from Sweden just like my mother!"

"You were going to take your parents to Phantasma."

Was that all Mister Why had gathered from Gustave's explanation? With a frustrated huff, the boy finally freed his wrist which certainly would bruise from the sheer force of Mister Why's grip. "I'm still going to take them there. We're going to see Alice's show in the daylight. You can't stop me unless you strike me down, and in doing that, you'll prove that you are in fact the Archangel Raphael." He should've been frightened when he saw Mister Why bristle at this, but instead Gustave only felt a sense of pride, a smug grin on his face. The angel said nothing for the rest of their brief walk to the unseen boundary between Gustave's world and his own. To where Raoul and Christine were frantically looking for their son.

"Mother! Father!"

The two looked over to see Gustave with a bright smile on his face, and to see Erik. While he wore a cloak with a hood, Christine could think of no one else who held himself with that sort of air, and Raoul had only felt that level of hatred simply radiating from a person's body once before. Gustave, completely unaware of his parents' shock, ran to throw his arms around his mother's waist, eagerly talking about the show that he simply refused to miss. When he realized there was only silence, he looked back to see that Mister Why had vanished again. His mother was tense, his father looked like he had truly seen a ghost. It seemed like they'd still left out parts of the story they'd told him, but at the very least, he knew that this was not the time to pry. Instead, Gustave moved so that he could hold his parents' hands, offering that smile, the smile of a child who didn't know the pain of the world. An innocent smile of a boy who simply wanted to go see a show. "Phantasma is a beautiful place, so please... let's go to see the performance."

Perhaps that would be for the best. Raoul and Christine certainly would rather focus on the happiness of their son than the ghosts of the past, although undoubtedly they'd have to face Erik before leaving Coney Island, or this would haunt them forever. With a sigh, Christine relaxed just a little and smiled at her son. "We'll go to see the show, Gustave. Lead the way."

* * *

Phantasma looked different in the daylight, but it was no less beautiful. What Gustave had missed in the darkness, he could now clearly see. Truly, this was an architectural wonder, and even his parents marveled at it. What sort of building could leave people awestruck just looking at the pillars near its entrance? Satisfied that his parents now believed him that this place was definitely real, Gustave dragged them into the grand foyer where there were many other people. People who looked like his parents. People who had no idea about the other world, which made Gustave frown slightly, his nose wrinkling at the thought that just a few hours ago, he was just as ignorant as the people who had come to see something that very likely they'd be unable to really appreciate. But Gustave knew he'd appreciate it. He'd met the prima ballerina and she'd wanted him to come to the show! She'd invited him personally, and Gustave was determined to meet up with her after. "Alice invited me," he said as his parents followed him into the performance hall, which he only knew the location of because everyone else was going to the same place. To think that this gorgeous place was open to the people who had paid to attend the carnival in general— but the carnival itself was already quite successful, and Gustave had a feeling that the truth was that people went to the carnival because they had paid to see shows at Phantasma.

And what a show! Seating seemed first come first serve, but Gustave found seats where he knew Alice would see him. After all, good boys kept their promises and didn't turn pretty girls down when they were invited to something like this, and Gustave wanted to think of himself as a good boy with a good heart. His parents certainly did. As expected, Alice did see him in the crowd, and she seemed to light up. Her dancing was incredible, every movement was flawless as far as Gustave could tell, although he knew nothing about ballet. What he did know about was music, and to his delight, Alice could sing! A sweet sound like a bird, not at all like his mother's, but beautiful nonetheless. Of course, Alice lived in the same place that the Angel of Music lived, so his power probably rubbed off on her. As she danced and sang, the crowd cheered for her, although they certainly had no idea how deep the meaning of her song was, and even Gustave knew that his knowledge of it barely scratched the surface, but at least he wanted to know more. Because to him, Alice was a person, not just a pretty face or a performer. At least she got the standing ovation she deserved when she finished her performance. "Gustave, how do you know that girl?" Raoul's voice cut through Gustave's thoughts and the boy turned to his father with a look that Raoul certainly recognized. Because it surely was the look on his face when he emerged soaking wet and shivering, holding a red scarf that he'd saved from the sea. "When I got lost, I met her. There are other performers here today, but Alice wanted to see me here. I'm going to go talk to her backstage, I know she's there— and... you and mother... i'll wait here for you." Spoken as if he knew what his parents were thinking. That they had to talk to the Angel of Music to finally lay to rest all of the sorrows that Gustave could see had been weighing on them for ten long years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry, Uni kicked my ass for a bit, but I am determined to get back to writing. 
> 
> It was only a matter of time before everyone met up again, but that will really be addressed in the next chapter. As always, Erik has no idea how to handle anything, and Gustave is the chaotic ten year old he was always meant to be...
> 
> At least he's learning more as he goes, because it takes time to really learn about things, which is important on a journey of self discovery.


End file.
